


Buzzed

by Dreamin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Nonbinary Beelzebub, Nonbinary Character, Other, after armageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Beelzebub and Gabriel decide to give dating a try.





	Buzzed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> I found the name Za'afiel in a list of names to do with God on Wikipedia. There wasn't an entry to go with the name, so I decided to make up an archangel.

When the dust had settled (Satan was pissed but Beelzebub convinced him he’d feel better after a nap), the lord of the flies and prince of Hell wearily sat down in their throne, mentally exhausted. Despite their disappointment, part of them was relieved that Heaven and Hell didn’t have to go to war after all.

“Not that we wouldn’t have won,” they muttered. “It’s just … the paperwork would’ve been horrendous.” Beelzebub looked up at the sound of a cylinder rushing through the pneumatic tube that connected the Penthouse to the Basement. It wasn’t often that Heaven and Hell needed to contact each other, but then when they did, this was the best method.

Forcing themselves off the throne, Beelzebub went to the end of the tube, removed the cylinder, then removed the note from the cylinder. The handwriting was very precise and they knew exactly who it was from before they even got to the signature.

**Beelzebub,**

**I find I’m in desperate need of a drink or fifty. Pratts & Payne in an hour?**

**Gabriel**

_This has to be a trick. Still, a drink sounds … nice. Fifty sound even better._ Turning the note over, Beelzebub wrote a response on the back.

**Gabriel,**

**Fine with me but you’re paying. And don’t skimp on the tip – everybody knows the hospitality industry is Hell.**

**Beelzebub**

An hour later, Beelzebub was standing outside of the pub called Pratts & Payne, bouncing on the balls of their feet with excess energy. They ran a hand through their short and untamable black hair, reveling in the feeling of the breeze running through it. The fly hat was a necessary part of their “uniform,” but it got terribly stuffy after a while. Their other hand tugged nervously at the hem of their suit jacket. The outfit had been an impulse buy a month ago – a black suit with white pinstripes, tailored to show off their tiny waist. The heels of the black leather boots added another three and a half inches to their five-foot-six frame.

 _I’ve only wobbled once,_ Beelzebub thought proudly, smiling to themself.

“And here I thought you’d chickened out,” a smug voice said from behind them.

Rolling their eyes, they turned to face their Heavenly equivalent. “I never back down from a challenge.”

Gabriel smirked. “Is that what this is? I thought it was just drinks after a trying day.” He opened the pub’s front door and held it open. “After you.”

Beelzebub watched him warily as they walked into the pub. Once they were seated at a booth in the back, Gabriel ordered a white wine for himself and a spiced rum for them. As soon as the waitress left, Beelzebub turned to him.

“How did you know that’s what I wazzz going to order?” They winced at the sound of their “lisp” but it couldn’t be helped. _Though, that prat Crowley manages to say S without hissing, so maybe it is possible._

If Gabriel noticed the buzzing, he didn’t mention it. “It’s a spicy burn, the closest thing this establishment has to hellfire,” he said, smiling a bit. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Thanks.”

The waitress returned with their drinks then left again. Gabriel held up his wineglass and they held up their glass of rum.

“To the Armageddon that wasn’t,” he said solemnly.

“I prefer to toast to the paperwork we don’t have to deal with now,” Beelzebub said then they clinked their glasses.

Gabriel smiled a bit. “Touché. I’d thank those two dumbasses but I don’t want it to go to their heads.”

“It’d be the only thing there,” they said, smiling a bit as they sipped their rum.

He was taking a sip of wine and choked a bit as he laughed. “Good Lord, yes,” he said when he stopped coughing. “I’ve never met somebody who looks as intelligent as Aziraphale does but has just two brain cells to their name, and that’s being generous.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “Crowley has maybe the ghost of a brain cell, that’s it.”

“What are we going to do about them?” Gabriel asked, his mirth suddenly gone. “They need to be punished.”

They waved a hand in dismissal. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s talk about something else, anything else right now.”

“Okay…” Gabriel thought for a moment and Beelzebub found his furrowed brow adorable. It smoothed out after a moment as he smiled at them fondly. “I remember you, you know, from before you fell.”

“Anything but that,” they muttered.

“Oh, come on,” he cajoled. “It’s not embarrassing. You were the Archangel Za’afiel, ‘the Wrath of God.’ Her enforcer. Frankly, you were a badass – that long hair flying as you smote another sinner. You fought on Heaven’s side during the Great War and you kicked some serious butt doing it.”

“Maybe I should’ve fallen then with the rest of them,” Beelzebub said quietly. “But back then, I still believed in Her.” They took another sip of their rum. “But then came the Great Flood. She told me to open the heavens and drown the humans who weren’t on the Ark. I wazzz all for smiting sinners but children? Babies? No. I put my foot down and, well, you know the rest.”

He nodded. “What I want to know is how you were made a prince of Hell when you fell so late.”

They smiled a bit. “Sympathy from the devil. He thought my reason for falling wazzz enough like his own.”

“Right.” Gabriel paused. “Would you ever come back?”

Beelzebub’s answer was immediate. “Only if God apologizzzezzz, and we both know She’d never do that.”

“Yeah, She prefers to be on the receiving end when it comes to apologies.” He sipped his wine for a moment. “If you ever do want to come back, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

They looked at him warily. “Why would you do that?”

“Let’s just say I’m tired of dealing with sycophants and dumbasses, I’d like to have someone there on my level.”

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m on your level?”

Gabriel smirked. “I’m being generous.”

In retaliation, they threw a wadded-up napkin at his smug face.

* * *

With the exception of a brief pair of notes passed between them after the attempted executions each hit a snag ( **How in the Hell did they survive? -B Maybe it means they’re becoming more alike. -G** ), the two of them didn’t see or contact each other for weeks. Beelzebub was loathed to admit it, but they missed the big lug.

_Am I falling for him? Demons don’t fall in love, except for that fool Crowley. Hmm._

“Let me get this straight,” Crowley said the next day. He watered his houseplants as Beelzebub leaned in the doorway, their arms crossed. “You tried to kill me, now you want me to help your love life?”

“I didn’t say ‘love.’”

“Didn’t have to, I know pining when I see it. What I don’t get is how you’re pining after just one date.”

“It wazzzn’t a date. It wazzz just drinks.”

“Uh huh.” He looked up at them, eyebrows raised. “You had a crush on him before you fell, didn’t you?”

That surprised them. “I, er… No! Whatever gave you that idea?”

Crowley smirked. “You’re blushing, I think hit the nail on the head. Since murdering me failed, I’ll be nice and help. Just ask him out. Take him out to dinner, Aziraphale can recommend a good restaurant. Wine and dine him then see where it leads.”

“He doezzzn’t like human food.”

“Then take him to a really high-end restaurant – the portions there are too small to count as food anyway, and he’ll be impressed by the amount of money you’re spending on him.”

Beelzebub considered that. _It never hurts to ask._

* * *

“I thought Heaven and Hell were going to leave us alone,” Aziraphale said irritably as he rearranged the books on one of the shelves in his shop.

“No such luck,” Gabriel said, smirking. “You’re still an angel, we’re still gonna keep tabs on you, though maybe from more of a distance now. But I’m not here about rules and regulations.”

“That’s a first,” Aziraphale muttered. He looked over at the archangel, curiosity winning out. “Why are you here, then?”

“I need some advice,” he said sheepishly.

“I … see. What sort of advice?”

“The relationship kind.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask,” Aziraphale admitted as he carried a small stack of books to his desk. “Crowley and I pined after each other for years, thousands in his case.”

Gabriel followed him. “But you did get together, you’re making it work. And if you, an angel, can have a relationship with a demon, then maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Dare I ask who caught your eye?”

“Beelzebub.”

“Oh, thank Heaven,” Aziraphale muttered. “I would’ve questioned your taste if you’d said Hastur.” He paused. “Beelzebub was one of us. Or, I should say, one of you – an archangel.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I like them. Or at least, not the only reason. So, what do I do?”

“Be honest, for one. Tell them you like them, genuinely like them, then ask them out.” He smiled a bit. “Impress them. Take them to a West End musical, one of those brash American ones, they’ll love it.”

“I’ll … think about it.”

* * *

The demons and angels who worked near the pneumatic tubes had never seen messages fly back and forth between the Basement and the Penthouse as fast as they did the next day.

**G, Are you free a week from Saturday? B**

**B, I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve got two tickets to Wicked for that night. G**

**G, And I’ve got reservations at the best restaurant in town. I had to work a demonic miracle to get them. B**

**B, Great! Meet you in the lobby at seven? G**

**G, It’s a date. B**

* * *

Beelzebub paced the length of the lobby and back, their four-inch heels clacking on the floor. For the umpteenth time that evening, they wondered if their cranberry-colored suit with its sharp lines and angles was a little too severe. _I’m not trying to say, “Hands off,” but what if he gets that impression? I want to be kissed, dammit!_ They stopped dead. _I should go change._ They turned to see Gabriel standing a few feet away, staring at them.

“You look great,” he said, awed. He wore a very nice charcoal gray suit and a tie that, as luck would have it, matched Beelzebub’s suit.

“So do you,” they said, once they were done staring back.

Gabriel grinned as he held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Beelzebub took it, unable to hold back their own grin. “We shall.”


End file.
